You'll Never Know
by Sofa King Stupid
Summary: As part of a summer assignment for school, Derek is forced to write in a journal every day for five weeks. It's a good thing he put it off to the last possible minute, because otherwise we'd never know. Alternate ending posted! Sam/Derek.
1. Hit The Gas

**Title: **You'll Never Know

**Word Count: **6794

Oh my god. I had the idea to write this in school today, and when I got home I started writing. This is about 7 hours of work, here. I can honestly say that I am in love with this piece. I'd love if you loved it too, but really, I wrote it for me and it was so fun and I just LOVE IT.

Also, any views expressed in here are the views of Derek, not me. :P

**Disclaimer: **Life With Derek belongs to people other than me.

**--**

**Sunday July 27**

This is stupid, stupid, stupid. Assignment over the summer to 'record our thoughts' for five weeks. Who gives assignments over the summer? I haven't even met this English teacher chick yet and she's already getting on my nerves. Space Case has her too, not at the same time as me thank god, but she's insisting that I start this now. Something about it being impossible to finish if I start later. Whatever.

You wanna know my thoughts? I think this is stupid, stupid, stupid.

**Monday July 28**

Dad's proud that I'm doing my work. Eww. I'm being forced to keep a diary! I feel like a girl. Stupid English teacher chick. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

**Tuesday July 29**

Casey is so friggin annoying. Yesterday it was all, feminist this, powerful women that, don't degrade yourself! But today? She's all dressed up for a date with some jerk and giggling when he feels her up. What a douche. Him, not her. Casey's a skank.

Yeah, you heard me. Read me. Whatever. I wouldn't have such a problem with her if she'd just make up her mind for once. But nooooo.

I don't think she even realizes what a hypocrite she's being. I mean, she's always bagging on girls like Kendra, but then she goes and spends an hour in the bathroom fixing her hair, and another hour going through clothes to find just the right outfit even though you know she's always going to end up wearing the first outfit she tried on, and I'm just SICK. OF. IT.

Casey is so stupid, stupid, stupid.

**Wednesday July 30**

Haven't seen Casey like, at all. Score. I just hung out, watched tv, avoided Nora. She still doesn't understand that I don't do chores. Keeps trying to get me to wash dishes or something. Delusional? Very.

Sam says there's a party tonight over at someone-or-other's house. He's gonna come around 9ish I think and give me a ride over. I'm gonna go fix my hair. Have to look good hot for the ladies.

Oh, and stupid, stupid, stupid.

**Thursday July 31**

There was no party. On the drive over Sam said that it was cancelled, gave me some stupid excuse about… oh, forgot his name again. Mike? Matt? Well, whoever was throwing the party, he was sick. Only Sam was acting real nervous, and he kept not looking at me while he talked. Yeah, thanks for trying but no sale, Sammy.

He's been acting real weird lately. I mean, he kind of avoids me. And a couple times he's called me, and it's been weird. Like, here, it goes like this:

Me: Hello? (imagine my voice real sexy)

Him: Uh, hi, Derek. (imagine his voice all squeaky and weird)

Me: Yeah. What's up? (my voice is still real sexy. if possible, it's even sexier.)

Him: Yeah, uh, I gotta go bye. (see above. or, above the above.)

Then he hangs up. Just like that. Whaaaaaat? What are you on, Sam? And where can I get some?

I'm just kidding. I don't do drugs. I hear they make you like, freak out and rip out your hair and crazy stuff like that. Doesn't that sound fun? Um, no. No it doesn't.

So then we go over to his house to watch some bad horror movie and his sister comes in with cookies, right? And she's smiling at me real funny and it started really freaking me out, until finally Sam told her to go away. Then she acted all embarrassed even though you could tell she was totally faking and said something about not wanting to interrupt our movie and left. The rest of the movie Sam was real quiet and didn't even laugh with me when the set started falling apart and all the bad actors are trying to be like nothing was wrong.

Weird, weird, weird.

**Friday August 1**

This is great. Really, it is.

So, Ed's walking across the kitchen, right? And he has some sort of, I don't know, cookbook or something in his hands? So he can't see where he's going, and he's just kind of moseying (yeah, I just wrote that. I'm cool enough to pull it off. moseying. hell yeah!) along. And cuz he can't see the floor he doesn't know that Marti's left this toy out. It's this little skateboard, like for her dolls or something? And it's about as long as my foot. (maybe not. I have huge feet. you know what that means.)

So he steps on it and I swear to god it was the funniest thing I've ever seen. It's like in the movies, he steps on it and it goes forward and he goes back, like in slow motion, and the book goes in the air and he's waving his arms like he's trying to fly. So he finally hits the ground and the book hits him on the head and the skateboard hits the wall hard enough to take off some paint, and I'm sitting there laughing my ass off.

Then Casey came in and yelled at me. I didn't even do anything! She says I was being insensitive to Edwin's pain. Pfft, whatever.

It turns out he did sprain his ankle or something, but now he's calling all his dweeby friends and saying he hurt himself doing some sorta awesome trick on his skateboard. In your dreams. I'm tempted to go back around and tell all his friends what really happened, but he's so geeky I figure that he needs all the help he can get. He's a Venturi, after all, and therefore his geekiness reflects badly on me. Which is not good.

Maybe when his ankle gets better I should hit him in the head with my hockey stick, give him another 'sports' injury? Because that's the kind of good brother I am. A good one.

Marti leaving mini skateboards out and Edwin tripping on them is stupid, stupid, stupid. But in a good way.

**Saturday August 2**

Oh god, Sammy. Don't do this to me. Please don't do this to me. I can't handle this. I don't know what to do. If you have all the answers, please, please, please tell me what I'm supposed to do now because I don't know. I just don't know.

Oh god, oh god, oh god.

**Sunday August 3**

Betcha wanna know what happened yesterday. I hope you don't. That'd be freaky, cuz you're a book and books don't wanna know anything. I guess it wouldn't be too bad if you did, actually. I could take you on the road. See the amazing, inquisitive journal! Only you might turn out to be pretty talkative and tell people stuff, which wouldn't be so good.

You didn't hear/read anything I just said. You're still shocked that I know the word 'inquisitive.' I'm not stupid, you all just think so.

I feel ramble-y. I'm talking to my journal like it's a real person. I haven't told you what happened yet. I just talked to my journal like it's a real person again.

I guess I'm pretty confused.

Here's what happened.

I had another kinda lazy day, just hanging out watching tv, browsing stuff on the computer. (stuff like music, not stuff like porn. get your mind out of the gutter, you crazy journal. okay. maybe you're not the crazy one.) And around noonish, Sam asks if I can go over to his house. I say ok, he comes over and gets me because my dad still won't buy me a car, and I go over there. His whole family is gone. We sit down.

Me: So, what? (yeah, it's this format again. don't you love it?)

Him: I need to tell you something.

Me: Yeah, okay, what?

Him: I'm gay.

Me: What?

Him: Yeah. And I really like you.

Me: … (that means I just kind of sat there and stared at him.)

Him: I just thought, you're my best friend, right? I thought you should know.

Me: …

Him: I'm sorry. I don't expect you to like more back or anything. I know you're not like that. I just thought you should know. Can we still be friends?

Me: I have to go.

Then I just get up and leave. I walk home. I'm not really thinking, and I felt kind of bad about just leaving, but I was kind of an auto pilot I guess and I didn't know what else to do.

The conversation is just the outlines, so you know. The real thing lasted about ten minutes longer, with lots more 'yeahs' and 'whats' and '…s.' Also he stuttered a lot and he seemed really nervous.

I'm sorry, Sam, I really am. (if I was in a better mood I'd make a joke about rhyming, but I'm not so I won't. I'll just leave you with this stupid note, something to make you wonder, what if? what if he'd been in a better mood? would it have been a good joke? would you laugh out loud, or just in your head? could it have maybe been a knock knock joke? perhaps. you'll never know.)

So when I got home I went upstairs. I went in my room. I wrote my entry. I turned off the lights. I went to sleep.

It was only like 1 when I went to sleep, and I can sleep for a long time but I woke up this morning at 3. And then I kind of sat there. And I wasn't really thinking. You know, I just sat there and stared at the wall for a while.

Eventually I started thinking again. So I was thinking these thoughts, in this order: Sam's gay. Sam has a crush on me. I don't know if we can still be friends. Sam has a CRUSH on ME. I don't really have a problem with it, but the entire thing is so awkward and it's really a simple thing but I just feel so HEAVY. Sam has a crush on me. Sam's really kind of hot.

Then I just kind of sat there for another few minutes, and after that last thought my brain must have turned off, and then I went back to sleep.

My dad woke me up for dinner. I'm not hungry. He's worried that I might be coming down with something, and started asking me how I was feeling. I told him I felt kind of funny. (but not in the haha way) He said that Sam called twice, and wanted to talk to me. I told him to tell Sam that I was sorry I couldn't talk to him. He said he would.

Then he brought me some soup. When he left I went to the bathroom and poured it down the sink, but then he found out somehow and got kind of frustrated. He told me that I had to try to eat something, and if he couldn't be sure that I would do that I had to eat downstairs with them. He's making more soup, so while he does that I'm writing this. I'm not hungry. I don't think I'll be able to eat anything.

I'm so tired. Tired, tired, tired.

**Monday August 4**

I'm exhausted. I'm trying not to think. I don't know why I feel like this. I wish it would go away. It's making my sentences all fragmented. Or maybe not. I think they're complete. Just short. Short and boring. I'm sorry. I hope you're not bored.

It's weird to call you you, but I think it'd be weirder to give you a name. I won't.

I slept a lot. Dad keeps coming in and taking my temperature and asking me how I feel. I told him that I'd feel better if he'd stop waking me up. I don't have a concussion. Let me sleep it off, please?

Well, yeah, he keeps saying. But besides that, how do you feel? The first couple times I said I felt sick.

He came in around lunch again. How do you feel? I went out on a limb and said that I felt bad. He seemed to understand that, finally. He gave me some orange juice and told me that I could tell him anything. I said that I knew that. He nodded a lot. Then he left.

He let me sleep for the rest of the day, and only woke me up at dinner again to ask if I was hungry. I said I wasn't, and he looked kind of sad, but he said that was okay and made sure that I was drinking enough and then went back downstairs. I'm writing this now, quick. I want to go back to sleep. I'm tired.

My insides kind of hurt. Ouch, ouch, ouch.

**Tuesday August 5**

I'm still tired. Surprise. My dad says he wants to take me to see a doctor. I'm pretty sure by doctor he means therapist. I don't know. I just don't know.

I'm sorry. I'm spending most of my time asleep but I feel more exhausted than ever. Like, I'm about to just pass out. I don't think that's good. I think maybe I should be eating. But I can't. I'm not hungry. The thought of it makes me feel actually, physically sick.

I don't know what my problem is. It's really not that big a deal. I know that. But I feel so torn. I think it's because of that thought. I'm making so little sense, aren't I? But, you know. That thought. The stray one I had on Sunday. Right before my brain turned off.

Yeah, little journal buddy, think back to that. A few pages ago. My initial breakdown. I'm sorry I'm making you go through these hoops trying to put what I'm saying into context, but I can't say it again. Can you understand what I wrote? Still feel the ink? I think you can. I think you understand.

I need to eat something. I think I'm cracking. Oh, Sam, why did you do this to me?

I had such a lovely summer. Lovely, lovely, lovely.

**Wednesday August 6**

I got up around 8 and had some cereal. My dad was so happy, I thought he was going to cry. I guess I can understand that. Before today, my last meal was breakfast on Sunday. I think I had a pop tart or something.

It was you. When I woke up this morning, I went back and looked at my last couple entries and realized something. Actually, I realized a lot of things. But the thing that got me to snap out of it before I did some real harm to myself was this:

In last night's entry, I used the word 'lovely' and didn't include any sort of sarcastic or otherwise adorable note to disclaim myself. I apologize for this.

I watched some tv with everyone. They said that they were glad that I was feeling better. Dad told me a little bit later that he'd said that I was sick. I was possibly contagious, he said, but I refused to go to the doctor. So could everyone please stay out of Derek's room while he recovers?

Thank you, Dad. I'm sorry I made you worry, Dad. I love you, Dad.

So, I have a problem. I've decided to approach it in a calm and logical manner.

What IS the problem? Sam is gay and he likes me. No, no, not that. I had a complete meltdown because Sam is gay and he likes me. Not that either, but getting there. I had a complete meltdown because Sam is gay and he likes me and I think that I just might be gay and like him back. There, that's it.

What's the solution? Well, hmm. I think… I think… I think that I don't know.

I need outside help. I need… I need… I need my Daddy.

Daddy, Daddy, Daddy.

**Thursday August 7**

I don't know if I can talk to my Dad. I'm confused. No, no, don't be! We've done this before and that didn't turn out so well.

What can I do? What should I do? What will I do?

Go straight to the source. Sam. You caused this, Sam, you fix it. You don't understand what I'm going through. No, no, no, you do! No, you can't. Because this is my problem. You can't possibly be able to give me insight. But I have to talk to you. I'm not making sense to myself. But I can't erase ink, so I'll go with it.

Ribbit! Gnocchi! Molar!

Things that have to do with mouth? I don't know, is that a category? You tell me.

I'm tired. But it's only 4, I can't go to sleep. I won't let myself. Stay up!

I want my notes back. You remember, don't you? The little things in the (parentheses)? They made you smile, I think, journal. That may just because they look kind of like smiley faces. Just the ) ones though. The other ones look kind of sad. Why can't I turn my head the other way, so that the ( ones look happy? I don't know. I can't do it. I tried. They still look upset.

But, anyway. I think that Sam took my notes. They stopped on Sunday. Sunday, Sunday, SUNDAY! You say that like a commercial, though, not like when I repeat myself. At least Sam didn't take that. I like repeating myself. It feels like I'm summing things up.

:( Aww, don't cry. Don't, don't, don't.

**Friday August 8**

I went and talked to Sam today! Unfortunately, it was not funtimes.

Him: Derek?!

Me: Yes. Hi.

Him: I thought you hated me.

Me: I do, dumbass.

Him: …

Me: Do you know what you did to me?

Him: Your dad said you were sick.

Me: I was. Yeah, no, yeah. You ruined me.

Him: I'm sorry.

Me: I'm sorry too.

I walked back home. I feel better already. I'm not sure if I was apologizing to him or agreeing with him. I don't know. I think they might be the same thing.

So I did that this morning, right after I ate a big breakfast. Just in case we had a repeat of last time, I needed that meal to be able to last for a while. We didn't, though, of course. Of course. I'm under control.

Wait, no. Now what? So I've talked to him, yeah, but I haven't really solved anything yet. I don't know what will. I want to stop saying I don't know. I feel like I say it too much and it's kind of annoying. I don't know.

Oh, crap! I did it again.

So. So, so. So. I think I know what I need to do. But first, Casey's shrieking something downstairs. I think I'll go shriek back. That, at least, is guaranteed to be funtimes.

Fun, fun, fun.

**Saturday August 9**

Sooooo, guess what I did today? I have some sort of strange feeling that it might take you a while to guess, so I'll just tell you. I went over to Sam's again. He answered the door.

Him: Derek?

And then guess what I said? Oh, wait, we've already been over this. I'll just tell you.

I didn't say anything. I grabbed him by the ear (he said ow) and pulled him out of his house and onto the porch and.

Then.

IIIIIII.

Kissed him.

There were no sparks or proclamations of love. But there was also no throwing up afterwards. It was nice. I think I'll do it again.

There was no tongue either, so you know. After a little while I let him go and he just kind of stood there. He said 'oh' a couple times. I told him he was pretty cute. He said oh. Then I told him yeah, we should go out some time. He said oh again, only it was more like, ohhhh? Like a question.

I told him that he should pick me up Monday at 8, and if he didn't take me somewhere nice I would beat him up and that I didn't care if he had other plans. He said okay. I said okay. I left.

Oh my god, my notes are back! Only a little, but who cares?

(yes, yes, yes.)

**Sunday August 10**

It was a regular day, sitting around, arguing with Casey over something stupid, playing with Marti. It feels like I haven't had one of these in so long, even though it's only been a week. Really? Only a week? Wow. The days seem to drag on and on and on when you're miserable. Not going to do that again.

I'm excited. I can't wait for tomorrow. I've heard that Sam can be quite the charmer. Will he put the moves on me? That sounds weird, and it's weird to be thinking about, but honestly, I really hope he does.

Oh, this is so weird. But that's okay. I like weird. And I like Sam.

Like, like, like.

**Monday August 11**

Lizzie had some sort of thing tonight. I don't know, sports? (does she still play sports? it seems like she's turning into a little casey, putting on make up and getting good grades. euch.) So everyone went to that. I told my Dad that I had a date, but not with who. He told me not to bring her back to the house. I was happy to be able to, for once, honestly tell him that I would not bring HER back to the house. I didn't put any emphasis on her, obviously. He'd know something was up, and that would be not good.

Sam showed up at 8, like, exactly. He was dressed really nice, not formal nice but more like he put thought into what he was wearing, (and no beanie. yesssssss.) and he was kind of twitchy, but that was okay. I smiled real big at him and he smiled back.

He took me to some restaurant I'd never heard of, which was sort of on the edge of town. It was nice, and the food was amazingly wonderful. There were a bunch of gay and lesbian couples there. I was a little surprised by that. Who knew there were so many of them (us, I suppose) in London? But because the restaurant seemed to cater pretty exclusively to same sex couples, we both felt a lot more at ease. I didn't mention it to you earlier, but I was actually kind of worried about that. It would pretty much suck if our first date was ruined by some homophobe.

First date? Homophobe? This is too weird. But Sam went beanieless. This pleases me. It pleases me greatly.

So, we ate together. We were kind of quiet. I was all excited earlier, but when it was actually happening I felt pretty shy. Which is honestly a brand new emotion for me.

Emotion. I hate it. Things would be so much easier without them.

Sam dropped me off afterwards. My house was still empty- Lizzie's thing must have been running late, or more likely they stopped for dinner afterwards. So Sam walked me up to the door. I felt kind of like a girl, but it was surprisingly okay. We just kind of looked at each other. I looked up at him.

I've never really realized it, but he is at least two inches taller than me. So I stared up at him, and he stared down at me, and we were standing kind of close together.

It took FOREVER, but he finally sucked it up and kissed me.

Tonight, I'm gonna dream of Sam. Sam, Sam, Sam.

**Tuesday August 12**

What happened today? I'll tell you what happened. NOTHING.

Okay, I give, that's an exaggeration. But Sam was busy, even though I really wanted to go see him. So I was stuck spending the day with my family.

Eww, right? So today it was Casey, Casey, Casey. (casey, casey.) And then, just when I thought it was over, it was more Casey, Casey, Casey. (casey, casey, casey, casey…) I don't even know why. They just love Casey.

Argh!

So while everyone was fawning over Casey, I realized something. I have no friends.

No, seriously! There's Sam. And everyone else… Well, they're more my homies. (okay, I'm not sure that even I am amazing enough to pull that off. 'homies' is soooo last year) I talk to them in school and occasionally we all go to parties, but I don't know anything about them, not really.

Sad, right?

So, that was my day. Edwin wandered over towards me towards the evening, and looked like he wanted to talk, but I dunno, he ended up just walking away again.

Lonely, lonely, lonely.

**Wednesday August 13**

Sam and I are going camping?

Hell yeah!

He called this morning and asked if I wanted to go camping with him for a few days. There are only 2ish more weeks before school, after all. And really. Alone, out in the 'wild,' with Sam? For like, DAYS? Alone? With Sam?

This is an offer I can't refuse.

For the rest of the day I packed. You, journal buddy, are coming. As are a sleeping bag, pillow, towel, and a few changes of clothes. (and condoms, don't tell anyone though.)

I'm so excited. I'll fill you in as it happens, kay?

I'm going camping, camping, camping!

**Thursday August 14**

**Friday August 15**

**Saturday August 16**

Yes! Sorry I ended up not taking you, I know you wanted to see the wilderness, maybe wrestle a grizzly? But right before Sam came to pick me up I got to thinking. I'm taking very little, and you'd be noticed. And I definitely do not want him seeing you. You're getting to be too filled with secrets and private things. So you had to stay here.

But I'll try and make up for it here, now, okay?

So we get there. I don't remember exactly where, but it was a real forest. Very cool. About 45 minutes, an hour to get there. We set up camp- this one tent and a grill. (did you know that sam knows how to make london broil? me neither. it was GOOD)

And when we're set up, we both stop and kinda look at each other, like, now what? So then Sam comes over and kisses me. And it's not one of those pansy kisses either. There was tongue. Lotsa tongue. I love tongue.

At some point while we were macking we tipped over, I guess, because then we were on the ground and Sam was on top of me. (oh yes!) And lemme tell you, he is good. At kissing, at putting his hands in just the right place…

At undoing pants buttons.

But that wasn't until Friday, so shh! Forget you heard that!

Anyway, there was a lot of groping. And when I say a lot, I really mean a lot. We did that for I don't know how long, but by the time we finally stopped we were covered in dirt and it was dark out.

We changed, him outside the tent and me outside because despite what had just occurred and what was going to occur later, at that point in time we weren't quiiiiiite there yet. We zipped our sleeping bags together to make one big one and we curled up together (spooning!) and went to sleep.

We were both plagued by bad dreams that night. Very, very bad. (hothothot) So we woke up at pretty much the same time, and he was still kind of curled around me. For a few seconds it was awkward, then it was (hothothot.)

Yeah, at 9 in the morning. We're stuuuuuds.

Condoms were forgotten. We both know for a fact that we're clean, (maybe we're not that studly, then, but it worked out for the best because it probably wouldn't have been nearly as amazing with a girl) and I'm fairly certain that I don't have a uterus.

We eventually got tired. When that happened we got up and had breakfast. (sam in the nude flipping pancakes. it happened, I hope to god it happens again.) Then we went back to the tent for pretty much the rest of the day. And night.

I would say that it was magical, but that's a little too gay. (it was though.) At one point I wondered if we weren't being slutty, because technically I guess that was our second date, but when you've known each other for as long as we have I don't think that sort of thing matters.

In the morning (that is, this morning) we packed up and headed back home. It was very much fun.

I'm hesitant to say the L word. So I won't. But if I were, it would sound a little bit like this.

Dove, dove, dove.

**Sunday August 17**

I think my dad is suspicious. But I can't tell him. Not yet. I don't know how he'd handle it. Soon, though. Really soon. Before school, I promise.

Stupid school. I feel like I still have so many things that I need to do before September. School is always something to dread, but this year, it feels more like a deadline than ever. Strange, but not unexpected, what with this new development. Sam. Oh, Sam. You do this to me. You turned my life upside down. It is so messed up, because of you. You couldn't keep your mouth shut.

I'm glad, I really am. Shh, shh, shh…

**Monday August 18**

Hey, what's up? Nothing, oh? That's too bad. I'm sorry to hear that. I hope things take a change for the better, soon.

Enough about you, let's talk about me. More Sam today. Hey, Sam? What's up with you, huh? Oh, that's good to hear. I have something to tell you. Sound familiar? You said that to me. Those exact same words, when you told me you liked me. I remember them. I can't forget. I will never forget, until the day I die, I promise you.

What? Oh, right. I had something to tell you. Okay, I've got this. Sam? Sam, Sam, I wanted to tell you. I wanted to tell you that I love you. Yes, yes. I love you. Do you love me? Please say that you do, because it would break my heart if you didn't.

Oh, oh, oh, Sam. Sammy. Mine, mine, MINE. I love you, and you love me, and I am so happy I think that I might explode. You are mine now, but mostly I am yours. Here, take me. You can. I trust you. I am stronger than I look, I think. Do anything to me, make me serve you, love you, write for you? I'll do anything for you, if you ask, and I'll do it with a smile.

Sammy, Sammy, Sam. I'd follow you anywhere. Is that okay? Good, good. I'm glad. I'm happy. I don't want to do anything that might upset you. You are my world, and I am yours, and while I worship you, you conquered me, and I don't mind it at all.

I am love, love, lovestruck.

**Tuesday August 19**

This has been one crazy summer. Or really, a couple crazy weeks at the end of the summer. No lazy days for me, but there is an end in sight. I'm not looking forward to it, but it's inevitable, I guess.

Edwin wanted to talk to me again. I don't know what he wants to say. He keeps running off before I can ask him. Hmm.

Talked to Sam on the phone. I don't know what we talked about. The sound of his voice is mesmerizing. We talked for maybe two, three hours, until Nora called me down for dinner. This romance is going to be murder on my cell bills, but it is a (metaphorically) small price to pay.

Nothing much happened today. The days, I notice, seem to stagger. One day is dramadrama, and the next a neighbor mowing the lawn is cause to run to the window and gawk. Lazy days.

This journal (you) is (are) kind of messed up. (don't take offense, please.) I've never written before. I like it. I'm a bit crazy, though. I wonder what you'd look like if I hadn't had my Sam drama. Like my first entry, maybe? Or would I have given up long ago? This is not something I'd do on my own. It's therapeutic. I think that if you hadn't been there for me during my (meltdown? breakdown? short bout of depression, is what it was.) I don't know if I would have been able to pull myself out of it.

So thank you, thank you, thank you.

**Wednesday August 20**

Sam's house was empty for a while today, so I went over and spent some time with him. Some funtimes. (so much fun) When I came back home, my Dad was looking at me funny again. He knows, I think. Or he knows something. Maybe not what. I will tell him on Saturday, I think. No point in putting it off any longer.

Short entry today. I'm worn out. I love you, Sam. Kiss, kiss, kiss.

**Thursday August 21**

Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam. Is that really who I am now? I am Sam's boyfriend, Sam's friend, Sam's 'guy.' Why can't he be my boyfriend/friend/guy?

I feel really stupid right now. I love being Sam's, I really do. I don't know what changed today. Am I really turning into a girl? (don't answer that)

No, really. I don't think I am. I mean, I still have a penis. I saw it today, in the shower. I even waved. It's been getting some action, what with all the Sam lately, so I don't think that it's unhappy, let alone unhappy enough to leave me. I don't know what I'd do without it. It has been my (mostly) constant companion through the years. I take it everywhere with me. I don't know what I'd do without it. I mean, how would I pee?

I don't know, that was really weird. I just feel like I'm kind of losing myself. I want to be a separate person. It almost feels like we're going too fast. I don't know, that's stupid. We're not going fast enough. I need to be with Sam. (everysecondeveryday for the rest of my life.) I love Sam. I'm such a freak.

Oh no. I'm not just turning into a girl, I'm turning into CASEY.

Say my name, please? Derek, Derek, Derek.

**Friday August 22**

Hello, Derek. How are you doing today, Derek? Good, me too. I'm just calling to say that I love you with all of my heart, Derek. Because I thought you should know.

Hi, Sam. I'm having a pretty good day, how about you? I'm glad. Oh, Sam. I love you too, so much you can't even imagine. Thank you for telling me, Sam, I'm glad you did.

Happy, happy, happy.

**Saturday August 23**

Dad? I, uhm, need to talk to you. No, please, you need to listen to me.

Okay. You have a few minutes? I need to tell you this. Dad, I know that you think that something is going on, and I don't want to lie to you. It has to come out sometime.

Dad, I'm dating Sam. Yes, blonde, best friend, male Sam. I love him. God, I love him so much. And I need to know that you're okay with it.

Yes, that is what I was upset about. Yes, that's where I've been spending all my time. Yes, I have had sex with him. Please don't be mad.

I didn't know. I didn't tell you because… I was afraid that you'd hate me. I know you could never hate me, Dad, I was just scared. I love you too. I really do.

Thank you for understanding me, for listening, taking care of me, loving me and being happy that I'm happy. Dad, Dad, Dad.

**Sunday August 24**

Derek?

Yes, Liz? What?

I… I wanted to say thanks.

Why, what did I do?

You've been really nice to me. Your attitude towards Casey could use some work, but you've been a really great brother overall. I don't think I've ever said this before, so I thought I should. I love you.

Lizzie… Thank you. You've been a pretty good sister too. Casey deserves it. I love you too.

Lizzie, Lizzie, Lizzie, I could have done a lot worse than you.

**Monday August 25**

Marti, what's wrong? Please don't cry.

Smerek, Smerek! I'm sad.

I can see that. Why are you sad, Smarti? Did something happen?

I dunno. I feel sad when I see you. I love you, Smerek. Can you stay with me?

I love you too, Smarti. Of course. I'll stay with you forever and ever.

Marti, Marti, Marti, don't be sad.

**Tuesday August 26**

Edwin, what gives? You're always right over my shoulder, but whenever I try to actually talk to you, you run off. Why?

I'm sorry. I really don't know. I feel like I have something to say to you. Like, I really need to say it. But whenever I try to I can't remember what it was. You know, Derek?

I really don't.

Oh. Well. Okay, I guess. …Derek?

Yes, Edwin?

I think I know what it was.

Well, what?

You're a really great big brother. I love you. I don't know, I think that's what I needed to say.

Oh. Ed. You're… you're a great little brother. I love you too.

Edwin, Edwin, Edwin, don't be confused, I'm here for you to talk to.

**Wednesday August 27**

What..? Nora? I don't really do hugs.

Oh, I know, but I thought you needed one. You looked so lost.

I'm a bit confused. Why is everyone acting weird?

I don't know what you mean. But, actually, I wanted to say something quick. Derek, I want you to know that I think of you like a son. I hope you think of me as a mother. I love you.

Nora, of course I do. You're closer to me than my mother ever was. I love you too.

Nora, Nora, Nora, why so emotional?

**Thursday August 28**

Casey, what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost.

Casey, Casey, Casey, can you tell me what's going on?

**Friday August 29**

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. Time keeps speeding up and slowing down, I hardly ever remember what day it is. Until I come in here and check. You keep me straight (uhm.) and sane.

I actually can't wait for school, now. I can see it. I am going to take Sam's hand, and we'll tell everyone how much we love each other, and there will be no problems because everyone will know instinctively that we are just as valid as they are. And we make an adorable couple.

It probably won't happen that way, but I can dream. Speaking of dream, I'm walking over to his house as soon as I'm done writing this. His parents are doing, I don't know, something else and they're away. I look forward to seeing him again, even though it's only been a few hours. Time moves slow when we're apart.

What about after school? We'll get married. We'll have a house, out in the wild, with dogs and lots of deer and a betta that I keep in the kitchen, even though Sam thinks that it watches him. Maybe we will have a kid? I don't know why I'm certain about something like a betta with a bad personality but not a child. I guess I'm just weird like that.

Sam will be a doctor, because I know that he wants to, even though he's scared that he's not smart enough. You are, honey, you really are. I'll be a photographer. World renowned, I'll take the prettiest pictures of anything and everything. We'll be happy, and we'll make love (up against the house) whenever the mood strikes, and we'll hold hands and cuddle and be the gooiest most in love pair that there has ever been.

And when people come to visit, we'll open the door together with smiles and say,

Hello, hello, hello!

**Saturday August 30**

**Sunday August 31**

**Monday September 1**

**Tuesday September 2**

_Teen Dies In Hit and Run_

_Local teen and hockey hero Derek Venturi was killed Friday, August 29 at 9 in the afternoon. Police say that he was struck by a car as he crossed the street… He will be missed._


	2. Swerve Part I

**Title: **You'll Never Know

**Chapter: **Swerve Part I

**Word Count: **5303

Someone requested that I write another piece detailing what would happen if Derek hadn't died on Friday. This probably, almost certainly isn't what you meant, and I know it's not what I set out to write, but this is what I cranked out. I've been really busy with work for the past several days and just this evening I had time to sit down and write, and I really wanted to post something so I figured, what the heck, I'll just divide it up into parts.

I tried my best to stay fairly accurate, but honestly, there isn't a whole lot of info out there regarding this subject. I'm bluffing my way through it. If you happen to know about this and want to help me, please do, but don't just review telling me that I'm WRONG. I know that, pointing it out won't make it any better, mkay?

So, what if Derek had survived?

**Disclaimer: **Life With Derek belongs to people other than me.

**--**

**Friday August 29**

It's only been a few weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. Time keeps speeding up and slowing down, I hardly ever remember what day it is. Until I come in here and check. You keep me straight (uhm.) and sane.

I actually can't wait for school, now. I can see it. I am going to take Sam's hand, and we'll tell everyone how much we love each other, and there will be no problems because everyone will know instinctively that we are just as valid as they are. And we make an adorable couple.

It probably won't happen that way, but I can dream. Speaking of dream, I'm walking over to his house as soon as I'm done writing this. His parents are doing, I don't know, something else and they're away. I look forward to seeing him again, even though it's only been a few hours. Time moves slow when we're apart.

What about after school? We'll get married. We'll have a house, out in the wild, with dogs and lots of deer and a betta that I keep in the kitchen, even though Sam thinks that it watches him. Maybe we will have a kid? I don't know why I'm certain about something like a betta with a bad personality but not a child. I guess I'm just weird like that.

Sam will be a doctor, because I know that he wants to, even though he's scared that he's not smart enough. You are, honey, you really are. I'll be a photographer. World renowned, I'll take the prettiest pictures of anything and everything. We'll be happy, and we'll make love (up against the house) whenever the mood strikes, and we'll hold hands and cuddle and be the gooiest most in love pair that there has ever been.

And when people come to visit, we'll open the door together with smiles and say,

Hello, hello, hello!

**Saturday August 30**

**Sunday August 31**

**Monday September 1**

**Tuesday September 2**

**Wednesday September 3**

**Thursday September 4**

I see a bright light. It's coming toward me very fast. I try to move out of the way, but it blinds me. I stumble.

The car hits me.

I vaguely remember screaming. The car backs up and drives around me. It almost hit me again, but it didn't. I probably would have died.

I don't know how long it was, but I see more light. Red, blue, red, blue, red, blue. I can't hear anything. I'm confused. I decide that everything would be much easier if I just went to sleep. I do.

I have some pretty crazy dreams-that-aren't. People keep saying my name, people I don't know, over and over and over. They're poking me, moving me. Several times I remember them screaming and pushing on me. I felt like I was being electrocuted. I don't know how many times that happened. After the third? fourth? tenth? time they did that, something happened. I don't know. I don't remember anything after that.

I woke up this morning to another light. It was in my left eye, then my right. Some doctor or other was being a real jerk. I told him so.

You're awake!

Well, duh. Why wouldn't I be? I mean, I'm talking to you.

He stared at me for a while, then just got up and left. How rude.

I looked around my room. I was (still am) in a hospital, definitely, but my room was pretty plain. No flowers, cards, anything. Maybe I haven't been here long enough for people to send me things? I don't think so. I feel like I've been here for a while, but that may just be because, well, it's a hospital.

I found the remote by my bed and turned the tv on. It's on some little kid's show, and I flip to the news. SEPTEMBER 4. I guess I have been here a while. Almost a week. Hmm.

I flip through the channels and find some movie or other. I don't remember what it was, but I settled down and started watching it. It was better than just sitting there.

What about my injuries? I seem to have been hit by a car. I'm in a hospital still, I was asleep (in a coma?) for 6 days. I don't know how badly I'm hurt. I have some sort of iv that's presumably sending me a constant supply of pain killers. Anything that I can still feel, I'm doing a pretty good job of ignoring. I still haven't looked at myself. I keep my eyes up at the tv, don't look down. My right hand/arm seems to be okay, at least. I closed my eyes and fumbled around the bed stand in the dark.

I found this notebook and pen in one of the drawers, and in the absence of my journal, I'm writing in this. When (if) I get home, I'll rip the pages out of this and tape them into my journal.

I'm writing with my right hand and though I tried, it's hard to write with your eyes closed. But I am very strong willed, I guess, because even though I'm looking pretty much right at my hand I haven't really seen it. It's weird, and kind of sad, but I don't want to know.

I'm still alone. Dad? Nora? Nurse? At this point I'll even take that jerk doctor.

Doctor, doctor, doctor?

**Friday September 5**

After I wrote last night I stuck the notebook under my pillow and went to sleep with the tv on. This morning I woke up to jerk doctor and a couple nurses.

Derek? Derek Venturi?

Yes?

Do you know why you're here?

Well, I think I was hit by a car.

That's right.

Okay. And?

You were- you still are in critical condition. Your immune system has been compromised, so for another few days you will need to be kept in isolation.

Okay.

Okay? Also, Derek, I'm sorry-

No! No, no, no, don't tell me.

What?

I don't want to hear it. I don't want to know. Don't tell me.

Derek, be reasonable.

No. I'm not ready. Get out of my room. Get out, get out, get out!

The jerk doctor and one of the nurses left. The other stayed and talked to me for a while. The doctor had used several big, medical words that I didn't understand, and she explained them to me. The conversation I wrote is a simplified version.

Nice nurse told me that she understood what I was going through, but that I couldn't ignore that something had happened, and that maybe it would be easier if I discovered for myself what was wrong, and if I would just look down…?

I said no. She sighed at me, said that if I needed anything I could use the call button, and left.

I hate this. Why me? Why does it always have to be me?

Why, why, why?

**Saturday September 6**

Nice nurse seems to be my personal nurse. She's always coming in to check on me and give me some company. Today I asked her what happened to the person who hit me.

She looked uncomfortable, but told me anyway. It had been a young woman, a college student. She wasn't paying attention- too busy talking on the phone. She started speeding, but there were no cops around, so what was the worst that could happen? She ran a red light and hit me.

She was terrified. She drove around me and kept going, making it back home to hide in her bathroom and cry. I guess I'd hit her windshield, and stayed there for long enough to bleed all over her hood. One of the neighbor's saw the stains and called the police.

Well, okay. Has she been convicted yet? Nurse said no. They're waiting for another week before her trial. They don't know what to try her for yet. (who is 'they?' the police? my family?)

This confused me, but before I could ask about it Nurse left and I was alone again. I sat and thought about it for a while, and eventually it clicked.

They're waiting to see if I die.

This was almost enough for me to inspect myself, see what damage had been done. It must be fairly extensive if my recovery is still so uncertain.

I caught myself before I looked. Not yet, not yet, not yet.

**Sunday September 7**

**Monday September 8**

Yesterday I looked. Better late than never. I might as well get it over with.

I held up my arms. My right is mostly fine, if a little cut up and bruised. My left is broken, in a sling, and I figure that under the cast it's pretty nasty looking. My fingers are a little stiff, but I can wiggle them. With my right hand I felt my face. Lots of tiny cuts (glass? where I hit the windshield?) along my entire left side. Probably very bruised. My jaw really hurts. Maybe I broke that, too?

My chest is wrapped up, and though I could tell that it was freshly changed, there was already some blood leaking through around my stomach. My left side ached. Broken ribs? I'm guessing.

I sat up, even though it hurt, and pulled the rest of my blanket off.

I started to cry. Just tears. The situation may have called for sobbing, but I'm too proud for that. I was quiet.

I guess I pressed the call button, because suddenly there were people in the room with me. I didn't pay attention to them. My Nurse tried to console me, but I wouldn't let her.

The faces changed. New people were there, patting my back, telling me it would be okay, but if the other strangers hadn't been able to help why would these ones be any better?

And then Sam was there. He held me, and the room emptied out until was just the two of us. I couldn't stop crying. I was kind of embarrassed, but then he kissed me and I looked up at him and he was crying, too, so it was okay.

I love you. He kept telling me. I wanted to say it back, but my voice wasn't working. He said it some more. I love you. I love you.

I finally calmed down, I don't know when, but then I wished I hadn't. Once I stopped crying someone came and made Sam leave, as he technically wasn't supposed to be there. I started crying again, but they wouldn't let him back in.

They started over, with the nurses trying to get me to stop crying (again) but out of spite I wouldn't. I cried myself to sleep.

When I woke up this morning, my pillow was wet. I must have run out of tears over night, because as much as I tried to cry again so that Sam could come back, I couldn't.

My Nurse came in. She told me that Sam and my family alternated so that no matter what, someone would always be in the hospital with me, even if they couldn't be in my room. She didn't say it, but I knew that this was because they wanted someone to be able to sit with me if (when?) I died.

Sam had been the one on duty when I had my break down, so he'd been allowed in despite my isolation. My family was called, but by the time they arrived at the hospital Sam had been kicked back out into the waiting room and the doctor refused to let them in to see me.

Nurse changed my bandages and left. I watched the clock for 1 hour and 34 minutes. Then I decided that there was nothing left to lose and examined my leg again.

It was my left. That's where the car had hit me, I figured. The other injuries, even the array of internal injuries that had me still, after almost 2 weeks, peeing blood, were minor (in my mind) compared to this.

My leg was gone. Not the entire thing. But from my left knee down there was… nothing.

The woman had hit me twice. Nurse thought that the shock from the first hit had numbed me to the point that I didn't feel the second. Instead of driving around me, as I'd remembered, the woman's car had gone right over my leg. It was crushed beyond saving. Once I reached the hospital, it'd been immediately amputated.

Oh. This isn't fair. Tell me I'm dreaming, I don't think I can handle this.

Sleep, sleep, sleep.

**Tuesday September 9**

**Wednesday September 10**

I don't think I'm doing well. I slept all through Tuesday. Or, I think it was sleep. I don't know.

After I wrote my Monday entry my doctor came and told me that I should be out of isolation by the next day. (tuesday) That hasn't happened.

He's checking on me a lot today. Every half hour I have someone in here with me, a nurse or my doctor or someone else's doctor.

Around noon a cop showed up. He wanted to come into my room and get a statement from me, but the hospital staff wouldn't let him in. The argued outside my door for several minutes. He finally left, defeated by my Nurse.

He'll have plenty of time to take my statement once I'm out of isolation. (please, please?)

Meanwhile, my pain comes and goes. One minute I feel fine and the next my whole body is on fire. I'm not s

**Thursday September 11**

I had a seizure yesterday. Right in the middle of my writing. You see that? I can't go back and add onto it, though, as it's not Wednesday any more. It'll have to stay like that, even though I didn't get to wrap it up properly.

I had another one during the night, and then another a few hours after I woke up. Shortly after the third one I was taken to get an MRI. I guess I'd had an MRI already, when I was first admitted, and they hadn't picked up on anything that might cause seizures. Now everyone's running around, mumbling medical nonsense to each other and totally ignoring me.

I don't know what's going on. No one is telling me anything.

I need to know. Don't you understand that?

Tell me, tell me, tell me.

**Friday September 12**

Whatever happened to school? I guess everyone is there. I wonder what Sam's told them. Did he say, my friend Derek is in the hospital? Or was it, my boyfriend Derek is in the hospital?

I don't know. I hope no one gives him any trouble.

I feel so selfless. I wish Sam was here. I love you, Sam. I need you.

Seizures again. Two, three, four? I don't remember. Too many. Why can't anything go right for me?

Maybe this is the universe's idea of balancing things out? I get Sam, who brings me so much happiness, that in order to even it out I have to lose my leg?

I hope I don't die.

Don't let me die, please, please, please? I'm too young for this.

**Saturday September 13**

Too many questions. Why can't I be sure of anything?

Good news, though. Jerk doctor figured out why I was having seizures. I'm allergic to something they were giving me. Some sort of medicine. They managed to switch me to something else last night and I've been okay since then.

You're not so bad, doctor who was formerly a jerk. If you manage to save my life, I'll invite you to my wedding.

No visitors allowed yet, and certainly no going home, but I think we're getting there. I mentioned this to a nurse (not my nurse- my nurse had that saturday off) and she told me not to get my hopes up, that I was still pretty messed up and I would probably die. Then she went on to comment that I probably deserved it, as I was gay and therefore the devil.

I waited until she left to press the call button. My doctor came in, and I told him what had happened. He nodded and said that he would take care of it. I thanked him and turned on the tv.

Just before I started writing this my doctor came back in, just for a minute. He told me that the nurse I'd spoken to had caused problems before, and that this was her third strike. She'd been fired a few minutes before.

Okay. What's your name? First name?

Uh, Garrett?

Alright. Thank you, Garrett.

My doctor is no longer nameless! Garrett, Garrett, Garrett.

**Sunday September 14**

Hey, Garrett?

Yes, Derek?

How are you?

I'm doing pretty well, you?

Not so much with me, no.

I should have seen that coming.

Yes you should have. Am I getting out soon?

Well, your wounds are healing up pretty well. I'm not quite sure when I can let you go, but I think I can say with certainty that you'll be out of quarantine by tomorrow.

Looking forward to it, yes, yes, yes I am.

**Monday September 15**

My doctor (garrett) didn't lie! This morning I woke up to my door being opened and my family bursting in.

Derek, Derek! How are you? Are you in pain? Are you traumatized? You can cry on my shoulder, if you need to, Derek. Do you need me to get you anything? Are you thirsty?

Give me some space, please? 2 weeks of solitude (even if I did spend a lot of it asleep) has been enough to adjust my ears to the quiet, and now it's broken by you- give me time, I will come around, I promise.

They were all with me for around an hour and a half, all talking at me. You won't believe what's happened in school. We bought a new couch. It's so quiet without you.

I think they were afraid to just be with me, you know? They need to fill the silence, otherwise I might start talking and I might mention my injuries and they weren't quite ready to face that I was different.

Garrett finally ushered them out and I was able to get an hour or so of sleep. They were exhausting, really. Then my nurse woke me up, announcing that I was now fit to start getting back on actual food. I had some soup for dinner. Under normal circumstances it was pretty bland, but I missed eating and gulped it down.

I'm settling down for night, now, and it occurred to me. Maybe I should ask my nurse what her name is? But, no. That would be too weird. I need to call her something, though.

I think I'll name her Betty. Betty, Betty, Betty.

**Tuesday September 16**

Garrett poked me awake. Hey, he said. You aren't supposed to have visitors today but I thought you might like to see him anyway. Don't tell anyone.

Who?

But it was immediately obvious who. Sam walked in, looking nervous. He remembered the last time he'd seen me. I'd been a crying wreck, and I'd looked like something straight out of a horror movie.

Not anymore. I'd healed a lot since then, my face especially, though I couldn't help it- I did start to cry when I saw him. But just a little.

Garrett snuck back out of the room and Sam and I laid on the bed together. He told me how much he loved me, and this time I was able to say it back. I love you.

After my family's crazy yesterday, Sam was much more subdued. He asked me how I felt and did fill me in on some of the goings-on of the outside world, but mostly we just cuddled.

Pretty gay, huh?

I don't really mind. After all I've been through, I'm tired of trying to be old Derek. I deserve a little sap.

It sucked when he had to leave. When Garrett came back in to smuggle Sam outside, the two of us (sam and I, that is) started kissing. I mean, really making out. I think our thought was that Garrett would be so grossed out by it that he'd leave and give us a few more minutes?

We should have known better. This guy can take (literal) crap being thrown at him and keep a straight face. (he's told me about it. also, I've seen the aftermath. not pretty.) Nothing can phase him. NOTHING.

Garrett, you're my pal now but you're still a big old jerk, jerk, jerk.

**Wednesday September 17**

Today, Betty brought in all of the get-well-soon paraphernalia that had been denied me while I was quarantined. At first I was thrilled, but I quickly started worrying. I was going to be buried alive by amputee teddy bears.

No, honestly. It turns out I was on the news. And not even just the local news- I'm talking national. Yeah.

Sam did end up telling everyone that I was together. And that was just enough to boost my story up there.

Gay teenage boy is victim of a hit in run! And loses part of his leg! And is still in danger of dying!

This is not the sort of publicity I want. I didn't think that there was ever really anything like bad publicity, but then, it had never occurred to me that this would happen.

It seems like everyone who saw my story decided that it would be a good idea to send me something. By just laying there being sick, I was able to raise around 30,000- enough for 2 prosthetics and then some.

I have every imaginable sort of get well card. Flowers, from the mundane daisy to some sort of exotic plant that I swear I saw growl at Garrett earlier. A church group raised enough money to send a Playstation 3 and several games, which I enthusiastically set up and played with Sam for a good portion of the day. (by set up, I mean I had sam set up for me, with a good deal of help from garrett once we realized that sam had no idea what he was doing) I also received a laptop, which I generously donated to Edwin, and three iPods. I donated two of them to the children's ward upstairs, with the vague instructions to Betty to let the kids fight over them, but kept the third to myself. It's a custom iPod classic. It's pink. How could I not keep it?

Life is looking up. Did karma realize that it'd gone overboard with the bad? Is this it's way of saying sorry? I don't know. I just hope things are done changing.

I want to be normal again. Normal, normal, normal?

**Thursday September 18**

Something new today. Garrett calls it phantom sensation. It is… very weird. I can feel my left leg. I mean, it's gone, and I know that, but I can still feel it there.

Apparently it's normal. I don't care. It still freaks me out. It doesn't hurt, not really, but Garrett says that it will probably start to hurt within a few days. Great.

I'm still getting things. No more big packages, though. Lots of cards, flowers, and another thousand dollars since yesterday. It's a little overwhelming. This entire thing is overwhelming. But I'm trying to handle it. I think I'm doing a pretty good job.

Not too much going on today. I hung out with my family and Sam. Well, my family minus Casey. I haven't seen her since the Monday, the first day they were allowed to see me. Apparently she's having a hard time dealing with everything. Ha. Think she's having a hard time, what about me? Let's have your leg cut off and your life ruined, Casey, and then you can talk to me about having a hard time.

I'm sorry. I don't mean that, I really don't. I mean, I don't like Casey. I think she's a spoiled brat. And I wouldn't call her family, not really. But I wouldn't wish this on anyone.

Not even the lady that hit me. Who, by the way, has a trial coming up. The cops still aren't allowed in, but Garrett filled me in on the case today. She has a whole bunch of charges against her, I guess, including one for assault. This surprised me.

A hit and run is assault?

Not usually, Garrett told me.

Hmm. I don't want the woman dead, but a few years in jail sounds nice. With all the coverage this is getting, there's no way she's getting out of this.

My (lack of) leg feels stiff. Crazy, crazy, crazy.

**Friday September 19**

Something terrible happened today.

Sam and I were hanging out in my room playing PS3 when Garrett walked in, all smiles, with a pair of crutches and a box.

Oh no.

Oh yes.

He (gleefully) explained that my permanent prosthetic had been ordered that morning, but that it would take a month or two to arrive. (we'd taken my first set of measurements a few days ago, but they were so uneventful I didn't mention it) For now, I had one that was 'good enough' to last until then.

I asked him if this meant that I'd be getting a physical therapist. He gave me this look, like he pitied me for being so stupid, but was too nice to say so.

No, stupid. I'm your physical therapist. (okay, so he's not too nice to say it)

What? I thought you were my doctor?

I am your doctor. Your physical therapist doctor.

So he explained it a little more. He's a general doctor, specializing in physical therapy. He'd been assigned specifically to me because of my amputation. Because he's so specialized, he told me, he takes care of most things, but when I 'coded,' which apparently means crashed, there was another doctor to watch out for me.

That's another new thing to me. Apparently when I was asleep for those first few days, I died several times. Whaaat? Why did no one tell me this? (you never asked, garrett tells me with a grin. I hate you, you smirking SOB)

Garrett opens up the box and shows me the prosthetic. It's… ugly. He sees my face scrunch up and assures me that the permanent one will be much sexier. Really, anything is sexier than this hunk of metal.

He gives me what he calls stump-socks (sam thinks they're neat) and tells me that they're what keep the (it's not mine quite yet) new limb snug. Then he helps me attach the thing itself, explaining how it works. I won't rewrite everything he said, or I'd be here all night and into tomorrow. I think I'll be able to remember it anyway, though.

It feels weird. Not in an altogether bad way, though. I've been having the 'phantom sensations' for a while now, and to have my leg feel like there's actually something physically there again was nice.

He shoves me some crutches. Get up and walk around!

What? I thought it was more… medical than that.

Pssh, you'll be fine. Just use the crutches and hold that leg up if you need to.

I stared at him for a while, trying to figure out if he was serious, then decided that he was and that I'd better get to it before he started being mean to me. Sam retreated to a chair in the corner and Garrett helped me up. I stood on my right leg, then slowly started evening out my weight. It felt stable enough, but I admit, the pressure I was putting on my stub, while not painful, freaked me out.

I took the crutches and was able to take most of my weight off my left leg, and then practiced hobbling around the room for a while.

I'm not sure if I've gone into detail about it, yet. I actually still have about a quarter of my shin intact. I guess I'm lucky for that- if it'd been amputated above my knee I would have had a lot more trouble with just about everything.

So that was my day. I stayed in my room, and didn't walk around for too long. After so long just sitting around, even this moderate activity was enough to wear me out. Garrett helped me take everything back off, setting my equipment down next to my bed, and told me that I'd done really well for my first day.

I didn't say anything, but I was really relieved that I wouldn't be getting another person poking around in my life. I'm comfortable with Garrett, even if it took a woman getting fired to get to that point, and I don't know if I'd have been able to open up to another person.

The nurses let Sam hang around with me after visiting hours, but even he wasn't allowed to stay for too long. Eventually Betty came and shooed him away.

I'm starting to feel really at home here at the hospital. It's really kind of freaking, freaking, freaking me out.

**Saturday September 20**

More physical therapy today, again only in my room. Garrett hasn't explicitly said so, but I have a feeling that from now on that's all I'm ever going to be doing. Great.

Sam got here early, while I was doing that, and stayed with me. In front of anyone else this would have been embarrassing, but it's Sam, and I knew he didn't care. He was proud of me.

So while I was limping around I had a thought. I know, surprise, surprise.

Sam. You were here yesterday.

Uhm, yeah?

Yesterday was Friday. Why weren't you in school?

There was this long, awkward silence.

I haven't dropped out, or anything. I'm just taking a break from school, until you're better. I still do my work and stuff, I just… don't go there. They know about it, and everything.

I guess I can understand that. I still watched him kind of suspiciously until therapy ended and he had to leave.

Then I had lunch and my family showed up. So you know, they haven't been neglecting me or anything, and they show up everyday, but their visits are usually just so boring that I don't log them. Sorry, but it's true. Mostly they just talk about themselves.

I'm only recording this because, for the first time since Monday, Casey showed up.

She stayed quiet while everyone else talked. Then, about ten minutes in, they all made lame excuses to leave the room.

She sat there with me for another minute. I waited patiently for her to say something.

Derek? (ah, there it is) I'm sorry I haven't been visiting you. I've just been having a really hard time accepting this. I mean, accepting that you're not… you anymore. You don't know how hard this is for me. You and I have never been really close, but now that this has happened, I hope we can change that.

I looked at her. You're right. I don't have an idea how hard it is for you to come to terms with the fact that I'VE had my life turned upside down.

As soon as I said that, she started to sob and fled the room. I was disappointed. I had an entire clever speech planned out for her, but she was more sensitive then I remembered. She wasn't supposed to cry until the end.

Everyone came back in to talk to me a little more, sans Casey, before leaving again.

They mean well but I'm starting to get really sick of them. Sick, sick, sick.


End file.
